The Ocean Myths
by Hiddlesybatched
Summary: SO I've been plagued with this idea about mermaids for a while and it's basically how they came to be and a different take on the whole Mermaid folklore thing. Okay?
1. Chapter 1

So I don't really know how this came into my head, but AU ish thingy.

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The pitch black sky split open with an earthshattering roar as the waves battered either side of the ship, causing it to lurch violently with every rolling crest. The scattered seamen battled ferociously with the rigging, wild ropes whipping furiously through the air as the wind screeched furiously around them. In the midst of the mayhem, a woman huddled, limbs tied together to the mast; neither in the way nor helping she whimpered with every sudden pitch and roll of the waves.

"She's bad luck, I'm telling yer. Why d'you have to bring 'er?" Two men shouted to one another over the howling of the wind and the creaking of the ship as she struggled to stay upright in the raging storm.

"She i… my si…er, couldn't ve.. ell leave … behind …ravaged ….merican savages!" Half of his words were lost to the wind's voice as the deck tilted dangerously to one side.

"…El she'll…..ave to…." His words were swallowed as he pulled the woman – girl, really- to the railing, casting her, legs still bound, over the side.

The roaring of the waves, the screeching of the wind and her brother's broken scream swirled around her as she fell, terrified, into the churning depths below.

Weighed down by her already sodden skirts, her entire body seemed to shatter from the impact of hitting the freezing water as she was instantly swept under by the rampaging current. She could think of nothing but how damnably _cold _ it was, and how her poor mother was going to take it if only one of her beloved children returned.

Everything went black as she sank deep into the churning water and the ship continued her laboured journey through the storm.

She woke to darkness. At least she assumed she woke up. At first she thought she was dead, but the cold had permeated her bones and saturated her skin, her very bones seeming to scream in frozen agony; nowhere in the bible did it say she would be cold in death. Fire, she had been expecting, burning in eternal damnation had seemed almost pleasant. Throughout her short life, she had been cold. Coal had cost too much, and the lord of the manor would have overlooked it had she been older and more… willing to his advances.

Hatred swirled through her, hot and heady, warming her chilled, broken bones. The ocean as it swirled around her seemed to whisper to her, encouraging her hatred of the man, spreading warmth from her heart around her body, easing the pain.

Sorrow touched her as she thought about her mother, left to fend for herself. Whilst her brother cared for her in his way, only she knew what her mother needed and when. Leaving her had been one of the most painful things she had ever done, and it was her brother's fault that their mother was going to be left alone.

Thinking of her brother led her to his crew mates. Bastards, the lot of them. They'd tried to force her, on their first night at sea. She'd refused, and her brother had come by, hearing her panicked screams as they had forced her legs apart. Anger and malice coursed through her, sending a tingling through her body, from the crown of her head to the very tips of her toes, leaving her painless.

She experimentally twitched her fingers in front of her, opening her eyes properly. The storm still raged above her, the cresting waves seeming to devour each other greedily as lightning split the sky and illuminated her surroundings.

She was surrounded.

A hundred beings hung, transfixed, in the water, just looking at her in her ripped dress, corset in rags and her legs still bound. Their pale, otherworldly skin seemed to glow in the faint light of the lightning, shimmering green and blue in the murky half-light.

She turned suddenly, flicking her head to the side as the beings glided towards her. Closing her eyes tightly as they drew near, she screamed as their ghostly hands roamed over her broken body, untangling her hair. Softly, their hands caressed her skin, soothing and healing her battered bones, untying her legs and gently removing the remnants of her dress, running their hands down her legs until she felt them meld together. They whispered to her, asking her name and who had caused her such harm.

Her worries faded into nothing as hatred consumed her. Those men; all men. They were responsible for her death. She knew now, that men were evil.

They had thrown her to her death.

Using her pretty face, her haunting, salt roughened voice and the wonderful freedom her tail had given her, she would repay the favour.

They would suffer as she had suffered.

She would lure them to their deaths.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2, not sure how long I can drag this out ;)

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Learning to breathe deeply, despite her lungs protesting every time she opened her mouth, had been slow and torturous in the years she had been there.

Time, and hatred, had eroded her views of the world above, leaving only a bizarre sense of not quite belonging in either worlds. She felt like she should be up there, breathing in the air and taking in the various scents that the breeze carried.

It was a confusing time at first. She knew words that applied to her old world, and yet could not use them in their right context- there was nothing to smell in their world. Sometimes, she felt the strongest urge to leave the others, who had saved her life all that time ago, see if she could survive alone, but sense always kicked in before she could act.

The ocean, filled with so much life in so many various forms, each one beautiful and mysterious and so very _alive_, was still so alien to her. She longed for the mostly forgotten comforts of home, of forks, and chicken soup, and a proper bed.

At least she wasn't cold though.

Life continued for her, slow at times, in others fast paced and full of excitement and danger as sharks and whales hunted them at certain times of the year. Other times, a new girl would join them, crying for days and begging to be allowed back up to the surface.

The others usually looked on dispassionately, not caring about - or perhaps understanding - their desperation to return to their old lives.

_The ocean was so beautiful, was it not?_ They would ask.

_Surely down here, where we are all equal, it is better, is it not? _

_Perhaps you should see the other new girl._

They would be sent to her, hair fanning in the ocean currents, tails flicking nervously, turning almost purple as they struggled to accept their body's needs for oxygen had to come from the water surrounding and supporting them.

It made her feel better, being needed.

She had noticed that as her confidence grew, weeks and months passing with alarming swiftness, the less she wanted to return to the world above.

She was becoming like the others and she wasn't sure if she wanted to.

Of course, she wanted to stay herself as she had been, but she could accept that she needed to move on, make the most of this life, this second chance that had been handed to her.

Time seemed to be an inconstant presence there, as time passed, years, months, it was impossible to tell one from the other. She could have been One Of Them for three years or a hundred years, she could not tell.

Other than the irregular storms that occasionally brought another girl or two into their ranks, there was no interaction between them and the outside world. Occasionally, she had entertained the thought of going to the surface just to _look, _to _see_ if the world they longed for was as good as they thought, but something, some unbidden, instinctive fear held her back.

What if there were men?

What if they saw her, and killed her? Again?

Shoals of fish flashed in the semi darkness. Their eyesight improved with time, as did their sense of direction and tail strength.

She didn't know if they could die; the oldest among them was a six year old girl who had wise, old, malevolent eyes, belying her innocent exterior.

Annalise had been One Of Them for about nine centuries, as far as anyone could make out. She had lived through the fabled freezing of the ocean, in the time of the Great Ice Queen, had seen the start of the great migration from Europe to the Americas and had lured countless lost sailors to their deaths using her youthful looks and haunting voice.

She didn't talk much, but there was an unspoken power about her, coiled and tense she watched all that happened, her ancient eyes staring restlessly out of her child's face. She didn't have to speak, every whim was interpreted by a flick of her iridescent tail, the slight tilt of her head, the way she twirled her long black hair between two fingers.

She had seen Annalise rip the head clean off a shark with barely any effort, whilst the others watched in frozen terror.

Watching from the sidelines of the group, she flicked her tail restlessly, wishing to explore a wreck, or something; they were planning something, and she wanted no part of it.

She'd gone with them, once. To a beautiful new ship, calling out to the sailors, some begging, some luring, all aiming to kill. She had joined in, caught in the exhilarating rush of heady revenge and blood lust. It had been the first time she had killed, and she hadn't liked it. Turning her large green eyes up towards the surface, sweeping her overly long hair back from her forehead, she observed a ship making it's steady progress towards them. It looked large, possibly a slave ship. She estimated that roughly 400 slaves would be on board, with 200 crew members to oversee them.

She almost wished the others luck.

The had been a black woman come to them, legs tied together, chained really, which had allowed their magic to work on her, healing her numerous wounds; she had been within days of death whether they had thrown her over then or not. Her back had been raw and bloodied, her thighs and hips bruised from the slave master's manhandling of her. She had adapted remarkably well to her new life.

This once, she felt no compulsion to stop their plans. Why would she?

She couldn't truthfully allow these men to increase any other human being's suffering.

She also could not ever again be involved with it.

Summoning her courage, she flitted over to the group, staring down anyone who dared to sneer in her direction.

_You might want to leave now, the storm is going to hit soon. Otherwise you'll miss them._

**_What do you care, man lover?_**

The brunette was silenced at a look from Annalise.

_I care not for these men, and seek only to stop the horrors they are perpetrating even as we speak. So again, I say, you **must** go **now**. _

**_We will. Come. _**

_I cannot, mistress. _She bowed her head in Annalise's direction.

_**Very well. **_

It was the most Annalise had ever said to her in one conversation. She watched quietly as they swam determinedly, swiftly, towards the surface, only turning away when the first few strains of their song rang down through the water to her.

__I pray you, sirs, have mercy;__

_Help us, save us, be our love,_

_Oh sisters, look, and see! _

_They are sent from he'en above..._

She tuned them out, scanning the ocean floor for any debris from their last raid. Darkness reigned suddenly, pierced periodically by flashes of lightning, the roar of the waves above coming distant and separate from her reality. The screams of the sailors were removed from her consciousness too.

She could not feel pity. She could not empathise.

Hate simmered, warm and comforting under her skin, banishing any sympathy she felt for the drowning men.

The storm would probably have taken them anyway.

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So what do you guys think?


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